


flames in the shape of you

by toojuns



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst, But They Are Still Idiots, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Witches, they are older and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 11:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30020952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toojuns/pseuds/toojuns
Summary: There are different types of love, and Dejun has seen it all, from the soft embrace of a parent to the madness of a first love.Hendery is a new type of love. One Dejun isn't ready to let go.
Relationships: Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	flames in the shape of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noctalia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctalia/gifts).



> RIRI HAPPY BIRTHDAY 💛💛💛 aaaa I hope you're happy and having fun!! This is my very first attempt of writing angst with angst IN MIND and not as a side effect, so I hope you know how much this broke me 💛  
> I could gush about you for hours and I love you so much, but I'll let you have xiaodery first!!  
> I'll see you on your dms (;
> 
> (ps. I've struggled a lot with what names I was gonna use for them cause yk,, they have lots, but I'm going with dejun and hendery which makes zero sense together but pls bear with me I don't wanna go back and cry again)

If this was any other day of the year, Dejun would've been late for work. 

He would've seen the clock, realized he never set his alarm for the morning, and rushed out of his place without even looking for breakfast, all raggedy breaths and curse words spilling from his mouth. Dejun would've gone the entire morning without eating, and close to lunch, he would be so low on sugar his vision would be blurry, and Kun would've sent him home again.

Again, because this happened quite often. The first one to notice would always be Ten, as he was graced with the ability to see auras—something Dejun hated because it's hard to keep secrets from Ten like that, _surprise birthday parties?_ Those were long gone from their vocabulary—but it did help with Ten being head of HR. The only reason the company was still afloat was because Ten prevented mistakes from happening. 

Therefore, Dejun would've been sent home again, where he would clean the house, log in to his desktop at work through his computer at home and receive an email from Yukhei telling him he was going to ban his IP address from the company's server if he kept it up. 

They would joke about it, remind Dejun to take a break, but his work ethic— _obsession_ , Yangyang would tell him—managed to score them quite a few massive deals throughout the years. Plus, the more Dejun worked, the more he was acknowledged, and he loved people noticing him.

That day, however, was not any ordinary day. So Dejun wasn't late. 

He didn't even need to go to the company; his cellphone had long before used up all the battery, so he didn't have anything else to ring an alarm. The only thing he could hear were the birds with their melodic, chipper singing, echoing how he felt that morning—they were probably being influenced by the witch himself, as winter was getting closer and there wouldn't be much wishful singing from the birds at that hour, except today there was. 

Today, Dejun got to roll around in bed, not worry about his job or life outside his home. Today has been his favorite day for the past five years, and he got to spend it however he wants, with only one person. 

"I can see you're super comfy right now," Dejun heard the voice before he could see the body standing near his doorstep, "but if I don't wake you up, things are going to start going haywire for me."

Hendery stood near their bedroom door full of smiles and exciting promises—ones they would still have to wait until later to find out—and Dejun could sense the impatience radiating from his body, partially because his smile seemed a bit forced, and he was almost bouncing on his feet, but mostly because his eyes screamed for help in a way only Hendery knew how to do it. 

If it was any other person, Dejun would've glossed by, because he's never been that observant; Dejun liked to look at the bigger picture, making sure it fits even if it's not seamless. He doesn't _need_ perfect; he needs manageable, comfort, and security. So there's no reason to look for the tiny details when they have something good going on. 

Life was too fast-paced for that anyway. 

Although, when it comes to Hendery, Dejun would've noticed even the slightest change of tone. 

"What's going on?" Dejun asked, fighting through the drowsiness from being woken when he was still in the middle of daydreaming. 

"I'm _trying_ to do something," the emphasis Hendery took on his action did not phase Dejun, "but the oven isn't working."

A breath passed between them as Xiaojun managed to understand his boyfriend's current quest, and his shoulders slumped, color draining from his face. 

Xiaojun knew that would happen; he knew it as soon as he had to exchange their old crappy oven for a new—shiny, very pricey—one. One day, Hendery would come back, and Xiaojun would remember why they didn't have nice things—Hendery didn't know how to behave with them. 

"Please tell me you didn't break it," Xiaojun pleaded, yanking his comforter away from him and getting his feet on the cold hardwood floor. 

Their mornings were always chilly these days, as any autumn morning ever was. Birds weren't as hyper, and all the trees carried promises of better days as their last leaves would fall to the ground, and Xiaojun could feel it all. He didn't like the season all that much; with winter so near, all nature would ever want was to go into hiding, to protect its own and wait it out. For a witch such as Xiaojun, connected to the earth, falls were even worse than winter; it was when he didn't know if he could count with external energy, and all his magic would be a little unpredictable. 

Being connected to nature, spring was usually his favorite season, but that was still too far away. Still, something about fall, with all its muted power, brought Dejun comfort. Maybe because it brought Hendery back to him, and he could deal with no flowers if it meant he got to see that smile again. 

As he got up, he felt the ground leave his vision, and his legs become weaker—courtesy of getting up too fast and not having anything in his stomach yet. 

It would always startle him how quick on his feet Hendery could be—the moment Dejun would trip, a hand would be there to put him back on his feet. It was nothing but a gush of wind, a cheeky little prank—because Dejun doesn't just _trip_ , he's connected to every single natural being, even the objects made of dead memories, and, therefore, he knows where he's going. 

The only way he could ever trip would be if someone _wanted_ him to, and Hendery always did. 

"Could you, like," he struggled to find the right words, as Dejun scrambled to let go of Hendery's hand, "not? Today?"

The man didn't even need to move; he was still standing by the doorstep, one hand reaching for Dejun's. Their bedroom was small—the price they had to pay because Hendery was deadset in getting them a big living room. _That way we can entertain our friends,_ he had once said, to try and convince Dejun, but years later, every Friday night was still hosted at Kun's house. Now Dejun had a mini foosball table hanging around somewhere in Hendery's office—he got mad at it by the sixth month of seeing it in his living room. 

"I'm not doing anything," Hendery promised. 

Dejun could argue and present his case, because he had one. Hendery liked to play minor pranks like that, ones who wouldn't cause any harm other than annoy the love of his life, and he loved when Xiaojun would get flustered anyway, even with anger. 

Ignoring his boyfriend, Dejun dashed to the kitchen, where he could hear the oven beeping. 

"What did you do?"

"I pressed start," Hendery explained, face scrunched up with annoyance, "the beeping is driving me insane."

The sound was nothing more than the electronic reminding its owner to check if the oven door was tightly shut—it wasn't. Dejun pressed on it until he heard the click and looked over to Hendery, who seemed like he had just discovered fire for the first time. 

"I swear I did that."

"I believe you."

"I'm not good with electronics."

"I know."

The situation was funny, and they both knew of it. Any outsider looking in would've guessed Dejun to be the one who struggled with basic human technology—he was an earth witch, so deeply connected to nature that he didn't feel the need for most technological advancements, even though they sure came in handy. Hendery, however, got stuck in a time Dejun himself wasn't sure they were even born yet; everything he touched would always present problems that were not there at first—it had gotten to a point where Yangyang would hide all his gaming consoles when Hendery went to visit his house. 

Hendery didn't have a specialty; his magic came from within and didn't seem to have much connection to any of the usual elements. Unlike other witches, who were claimed while young or gotten obsessed with a specific part of their culture, Dejun guessed Hendery had always been hyper about _everything_. Therefore, he had never gotten to choose or let others choose him, staying in a limbo of untouched power. 

It was fascinating, even more so because Dejun had never seen someone like Hendery. One who could chant worries away, make sounds travel through the wind, heat up beating hearts, without much of an effort. Sure, every witch had their tricks, but Hendery had it all. 

However, that came with a price, as Hendery had never gotten much guidance through his awakening, since he never chose a path. Dejun could hear the ground talk to him, Ten could let himself be influenced by his core, but Hendery was alone—it had always been him, with cheeky party tricks and loneliness that no one could ever understand.

"Aren't you gonna finish this up?" Dejun asked, looking at their kitchen. 

It was like hell had broken loose—which only meant Hendery actually tried to cook. There was flour on the ground where Dejun stood, and their food mixer was still on—a concerning realization because if there was still dough being processed, what did Hendery put in the oven? 

"I will," Hendery promised, jumping up and sitting on the counter, "I just need to catch my breath."

"That bad?"

"Just a little tired," Hendery brushed it off, smiling at Dejun, "nothing to worry about."

Another problem with Hendery being a magical being without claim, was that he couldn't just ask for energy like the others did. Dejun was always on top of his game because nature itself made sure of it; they had a relationship, mutually beneficial. Hendery didn't have anything to rely on, so, although powerful, his existence with magic was limited to the strength of his body—and every day, that would get harder for him. 

Without saying anything, Dejun took it upon himself to continue whatever Hendery was doing for breakfast. There were eggs and tomatoes already whipped up, there was a bottle of lao gan ma freshly opened, but Dejun decided to ignore it—he liked the spice, but Hendery sometimes went overboard with it, and it would be impossible to eat. 

("But I thought you liked it?" Hendery complained, eating the muffins filled with the sauce he had just baked. He tried not to pull a frown; he failed.

"Let's leave the spicy cooking to me, shall we?"

"That wounds me," Hendery protested, "I'm a better cooker than you."

"You're not, and stop eating that; you're gonna be on the toilet all day."

Dejun was right, and they were both shit cooks.)

Hendery himself wasn't a fan of lao gan ma as Dejun was, but he loved to pamper his boyfriend—in all the wrong ways, because the way to Dejun's heart was not his stomach, not when it came to Hendery's raw doughs and sweet pasta. There were lines even Dejun didn't cross, and Hendery still hadn't figured out his boyfriend didn't want to kill his taste buds. 

"What's in the oven?"

"I'm roasting pumpkins," Hendery said, playing with some of the flour left on the counter, making smiley faces with it, "I saw it on a cooking channel."

" _When?_ "

"A few years ago?" Hendery thought about it, not meeting Dejun's eyes for the first time that morning, "I think? When we first got this place. I still remember it."

He didn't. 

The first thing any cooking show would've told him was to grease up the tray he would be using or lay the pumpkin on some parchment paper. They didn't have fancy, anti-adherent trays, so anything that went in contact with the metal got stuck for days. It would usually take Dejun hours to let everything soak up with water to even start cleaning the trays again.

The pumpkin slices were now burnt where they came in contact with the tray, which only made Hendery more excited, as he would have to cut them again and free the bits that were still edible from the carbonized mess.

They still had some leftover soup, courtesy of Kun and his refusal to cook normal-sized portions—every week, Dejun would get back home with another new dish Kun had made, and he would thank the gods for not having to cook. This week, it was soup.

"Kun's?" Hendery asked when he saw Dejun get a saucepan from the fridge and walk to the stove. 

"Yeah, this one is great."

There was no doubt in Hendery's mind, as he too had tasted Kun's cooking hundreds of times before, so he got back to his surgical mess and tried not to burn his fingers when they got too close to the hot tray.

"So," Hendery started, eyes still fixed on his mission, "how was work?"

"I just woke up."

"Humour me," Hendery pleaded, "We haven't seen each other."

The reason today, of all days, was Dejun's favorite was because that was the day Hendery would come back. 

It wasn't easy, for any of them, to stay apart from Hendery, but it especially wasn't easy for Dejun. 

(They met at college, while Dejun was still grasping the idea of getting claimed by nature—he was a late witch, one of the few who had their power latent until adulthood—and was shouting at a tree his frustrations. He didn't understand the universe's laws of give and take, and since he hadn't found a compromise with the earth yet, he had been missing classes and failing because he was too scared of his own powers. 

It was late at night, and Dejun thought no one was near him; he felt it was safe, so he started to bargain with the earth. Under the moonlight, with a bad temper and lacking sleep, the conversation quickly turned sour, with Dejun making vague threats to a tree.

From the outside, he looked terrifying. No one other than Dejun could sense the earth replying, so it was almost like he was on a monologue, set with vague gestures and angry stares at the ground. 

Hendery always liked the night; it was his time to unwind and recharge his energy. Unlike every other source of light, the moon was graceful enough to let him take some of their power and not ask for anything in return. Sometimes he wished he was a child of the moon; nothing seemed as romantic as that.

But Hendery also loved the wind; he loved the clouds and rain. He loved that weird in-between with the air and water, that source of magic that no one knew how to explain, no one knew where to belong. Hendery loved the confusion. 

The fire and sun were usually a little trickier, but they gave out the best spells. Gathering energy from them was a slow, painful process, as it would be with anyone that deemed itself too good for others. Any heat element had egotistical traits that made them insufferable and breathtaking. 

The earth had always been the one Hendery didn't care for; nothing about it seemed that much special. That was until he found himself in the middle of the campus' garden, with a boy shouting his frustrations back at the world. 

He stopped his moonlight endeavors to sit on a bench and watch as the boy got increasingly angrier and started to threaten the tree he was talking to.

"I'm going to set you on fire," the boy would hiss back at whatever reply he had gotten that time.

Knowing how prideful the elements could be, especially the earth with all its might, Hendery quickly jumped back up and ran to the boy. 

He ran and put his hands on the boy's mouth before he could say anything more stupid, which only caused the guy to scream and the tree to attack Hendery.

Earth children, as Hendery found out, were the trickiest of them all. And that's how Hendery met Dejun.)

Breakfast was uneventful. Just two boys catching up, Hendery talked about the things the wind would send him, and Dejun told him about the last year he wasn't around—how Yangyang had decided to go back to college and this time enroll in the music department, how Ten had been promoted, and Sicheng was getting married. 

"Who knew he would be the first, huh?" Hendery laughed.

"I did," Dejun said, "Ten did too."

No matter how much time passed between them, nothing would change. Hendery would still forget to add the detergent when loading up the dishwasher, and Dejun would still nag at him for it. 

They were, however, older. 

Hendery didn't look all that different. It had been almost a decade since they first met each other back at their college campus, when Hendery received the first black eye of his life, and all Dejun could point out was that his hair was longer. He was still the same guy with a smiler larger than life and reckless actions that would always put him in trouble, be it with the humans or gods. 

Dejun, on the other hand, had found himself with wrinkles around his eyes every time he would show emotion on his face. The one visual passage of time from moving in with his boyfriend, they were so used to laughing that Dejun had formed wrinkles from repeating the action so many times. 

Those wrinkles were a sign of love, and Dejun was proud of them. Every new curve on his body came with new memories, tokens of adoration that were only meant for two. 

They were still two boys in love. And every time Dejun would answer one of the plants in their house, Hendery would try to chime in just so he could upset mother nature, an act of defiance that would lead him to trip on hardwood later, to which Dejun could only laugh—served him right to try and get on every single being's nerves. 

As much as Dejun would've loved to go back to bed and cuddle Hendery for the rest of the day, his boyfriend had other ideas in mind. 

First, as soon as he came back—early in the morning, while Dejun was still asleep—he realized Dejun was surviving off of instant noodles and chili sauce. Those were fine when they were still new adults, when they had struggled to find the money to lease their home, and had not even a single penny to their names. Today, they could afford to splurge a little, and instant noodles every night would have Dejun falling sick in no time. 

So they went grocery shopping.

"Do you know how to pick cucumbers?"

"Those are fine," Dejun said, "all of them."

"Wait," Hendery stopped him and their shopping cart, hand grabbing Dejun's, "you can tell that _too_?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh my god," Hendery exclaimed, "eight years together, and _now_ you're gonna tell me all those times I chose bad avocadoes I could've just made you chose them for me?"

"You never asked."

One problem children of the earth had, as Hendery would constantly remind himself, was that they took things for granted. Of course Dejun could tell; he's related to the earth, he knows every single being's matter, and that was a given.

"I want a divorce." 

"Marry me first."

("Okay, but like, could you also have saved those avocadoes?"

"You have literally seen me revive plants before."

"You're fucking kidding me, Xiao Dejun."

"I don't understand why you're mad?"

"Oh my god," Hendery was outraged, "go fight a tree or something, let me shop in peace.")

The second thing on his list was cleaning the house. And not Dejun's way of cleaning—where he wouldn't push the furniture away—but Hendery's. 

His first day back, and instead of spending it in bed, like Dejun thought they would, Hendery had brought out the big guns and bought them new cleaning gloves. At least they matched, so Dejun couldn't complain—if they didn't, Dejun would have thought Hendery's gloves were better than his, and they would argue for an hour over which person should use what utensils. 

Hendery was smarter now; he would never buy them things that didn't match after what happened with the toothbrushes six years ago. 

"How about that room?" Hendery asked when they were done in the living room.

"It's your office," Dejun reminded him, "I don't use it, so it must be dusty."

"You don't enter it?" Hendery asked, "ever?"

"I only went in when I needed to talk to you, you weren't there then, so I left the door closed."

"Oh."

Dejun wouldn't tell Hendery, but not entering his office had been the best way he could find to handle missing his boyfriend. If the door was closed, he could pretend Hendery was still there, emailing or making calls at silly hours, because he never was one for time, and most of his clients lived on the other side of the globe. 

He never opened that door because he was afraid of missing his boyfriend too much and making mistakes.

But he wouldn't tell him that. Hendery didn't deserve to hear that.

"I'll clean it up later, then," Hendery promised.

Besides, they didn't need to think about that right now, not when Hendery was still here with Dejun. It was their day. 

"What now?" Dejun asked when he could finally sit on the couch and stop his heart from beating too fast from all the extreme workout that afternoon.

"Are you hungry?" Hendery asked.

"Not really."

"Then we could finally put our pictures up?" Hendery gestured back to their wall, where they had lots of frames filled with the stock photos they came with. 

It had been Dejun's idea to create a wall of memories. His grandmother used to have one, and he wanted to keep the tradition alive, burn some sage every now and then and keep the spirits around them friendly. Hendery thought it was cute, and before Dejun could even give him the go-ahead, he had already bought dozens of frames of all shapes and colors, and now they had a wall filled with all sorts of fake families and dogs smiling at them. 

"I haven't printed the pictures."

"I did," Hendery assured him, "it's on the counter."

Not only Hendery had them printed, but he also had cut them already to fit each frame, and Dejun was delighted with his choice of photos. 

There were normal ones, Dejun as a baby, him on his grandmother lap, the first time Hendery met Dejun's parents—his smile was so fake and his tension so high he burst a lamp when he laughed at one of Dejun's jokes—, there were also photos from their years together. 

There was Ten and Hendery hugging each other while drunk and promising to never forget their bond, the day Kun graduated college—the first of them to do so—and they surprised him by shoving an entire cake to his face, the day Dejun asked Hendery to move in with him, both starry-eyed and in love. 

That day, Hendery realized that the earth was the element he liked the most. It was the only thing he didn't know how to work very well and the one thing that would keep Dejun safe at all times. So he made a pact with the same tree he first met Dejun at, and they were both keeping their sides of the promise. 

"Do we _have_ to put that up?" Dejun asked, showing Hendery the photo of Dejun with a plastic crown at Burger King; he was laughing so much the picture was blurry. Hendery didn't remember what he was laughing about, but he remembered the feeling it gave. 

That same night, Hendery kissed Dejun for the first time. 

He also kicked a tree when going back to his dorm, as he tripped in one of its roots and couldn't figure out if it was on purpose or if he was just clumsy—Hendery was still very much at war with Dejun's element for the black eye he got, so he chose to believe the first. 

"We do," was the only answer Dejun got from Hendery for that photo.

They started to frame every photo, Dejun cutting over Hendery's job as some of the pictures still didn't fit, and by the time they were over, Dejun's hands were cramping from all the effort with the scissors. 

"How are you feeling?" Hendery asked, massaging Dejun's hands. He couldn't even feel much of Hendery's touch, but he appreciated the thought. 

"I should be asking you that," Dejun said, "how do you like being back?"

Hendery smiled at him, the one smile made for Dejun. 

Sometimes, home didn't cut it for Dejun. It was why he liked being at work; there, he could entertain himself, watch as Ten trained the younger kids, knock on Kun's door and catch up, see if Yukhei needed any help with his security measures. 

Being at home was strange without Hendery in it, because most of the idea of home for Dejun came from having someone to experience it with. Going grocery shopping with Hendery, being surrounded by strangers, still felt more like home than any other night he spent alone in their house. 

He missed the nights together, waking up to Hendery's bad breath, kissing him anyway, shouting over the shower to ask him to check why the water isn't getting warmer, complaining about not wanting to make food, and ordering out every Friday night. He missed Hendery in all ways he could of a family member. And in some ways, Hendery was more than that. 

Just like Dejun didn't feel whole until he could experiment with his magic, when he became part of a bigger picture, he also felt like a broken domino without Hendery—a piece without its partner. 

"I like what you've done with the place."

"I didn't change anything," Dejun said.

"You should," Hendery replied, "I like the new oven."

It was probably a lie, Dejun could tell. It was meant to be a sweet gesture, but it also set a nasty feeling at the bottom of his stomach—that Hendery could suggest changes so casually, ones that wouldn't involve him. 

"I'd rather wait."

"Okay."

("Hey," Hendery jumped from the couch, "do we still have that Twilight parody movie?"

"No, shut up.'

"Oh, come on, for old times sake."

"I burned it," Dejun said, "that's not gonna enter my house ever again."

"It's _our_ house, babe."

"Yeah, and you either respect my movies, or I'm kicking you out.")

After a late lunch, or maybe early dinner, they did end up in bed. Dejun would've wanted to skip to that part altogether, but he figured the morning was also nice. 

Nothing, however, could beat having Hendery by his side in bed. Even the warmth he emanated was different; having their bodies come together again felt like Dejun was finally home. They were too tired to act on it, and Hendery had already exerted himself for the rest of the day, so Dejun kept his head on Hendery's chest, hearing the echo his breathing would make on his ear. 

Dejun would ask Hendery anything, so he could hear his voice reverberate through the boy's body; he would tell a joke so he could hear Hendery laugh, and they would spend hours like that, with Dejun ignoring what he couldn't listen to anymore. 

"I missed you," Dejun told him at last, "it sucks when you're not here."

He could feel Hendery tense up with his confession, and they never talked much about it before, ignoring the impending end every time they would meet. 

Today, Hendery replied, "I miss you too."

They don't talk about it later, as later would never come. Dejun loves the day with Hendery, but he would usually dread the night. 

The night, when he could feel Hendery get lighter, his touches smudgier, and he would know it was time to say goodbye again.

"I guess I'll see you next year, then?"

They've been through this before; all Hendery had to do was agree with Dejun, and they would go on with their lives for another 364 days. Another year where Dejun would mutter words under his breath and hope the wind would be kind enough to get them to Hendery. 

Hendery didn't agree to it this time, and Dejun knew why. He knew the moment Hendery touched him that day, when he couldn't finish breakfast, and when Dejun couldn't hear anything else other than the air going through his body. 

"It might be time for you to let me go," Hendery said, his arm around him making no pressure, as he didn't have the strength to lie anymore. 

And then it dawned on Dejun. 

They had been on borrowed time, but he didn't know they had that little to spare. 

"I don't have any more magic to appear anymore," Hendery explained. 

"I can give you some?" 

"You know that's not how it works."

Dejun knew. He knew because the next time he went to scream at the earth, it was because of Hendery. 

The real problem of being a magical being without any power element to fall on was that Hendery didn't have any energy other than himself, and magic takes a toll on the body as nothing else ever would. It's a symbiotic relationship; just as Dejun could gather his power from the earth, he could also revive plants with it if ever needed. 

And elements are tricky, powerful, and ruthless. As Hendery didn't want to choose one of them, they also never looked back on him, and he kept slowly emptying out his own vial of time, unaware of the consequences. 

When they found out, it was already too late. Not even the earth, with all its love for Dejun, could've helped. 

They could, however, make a pact. One that involved time, one between Hendery and Dejun's element, so they could protect the one they wanted the most. Every year, for the next five years since Hendery was gone, he would come back one day. As nothing more than an entity, the air that gushed through the trees, and only for Dejun. 

It was the best they could do with borrowed power, as Hendery's core didn't allow him to stay, and it would've felt wrong doing so. 

Hendery loved, laughed, lived brighter than any other person the world had ever seen; he didn't choose sides, and that made him extraordinary; Hendery could waltz inside a room and steal everyone's breath without even trying. 

He was kind and grabbed Dejun's hand when he needed it the most, and even now, his memory was still there because of Dejun. 

It was cruel to ask him to stay, especially when he knew it was impossible, when he could feel the missing heartbeat as they lied awake together. Hendery was nothing but a shell of who he once was, filled with overpowering promises and willing emotions, but still too ethereal to call him home. 

"I'm sorry," Hendery told him, "you should open up the office and start the adoption papers again."

The room, right before they found out Hendery's situation, was being transformed into a nursery. They weren't actively looking yet, but it had always been on their mind the idea of a family, one with them at the center—one where Hendery could teach their kids all about the world and Dejun could fall more in love with the man of his dreams. 

That plan also fell through when Hendery fell apart. 

It hadn't been Hendery's office for years now, and it took him by surprise when Dejun called it like that. They had been ready for the next step, and as much as Hendery didn't want to push Dejun for it at the end, the room stayed the same. 

When the call came, the first one where they said they had a baby, Dejun hung up and blocked their number. 

The first year back, Dejun had told Hendery about it, but the following year he went back to pretending things between them hadn't changed—maybe Hendery was away for business. And over time, it became harder to talk to him about it; their next days together were filled with promises and pretend. 

And the fifth day of the fifth year had come, and Hendery looked like he always did, but not at all. His hair reminded Dejun of the wind, careless and wild; his hands were pale and fragile, and he could see the pain in his eyes for existing. The toll it was taking on him had become too much. 

"I'll think about it."

"Promise me," Hendery asked, "that you'll do so."

Dejun didn't, and Hendery didn't ask twice. They knew better than stay in a place of disagreement on the last minutes they had together. It would be the sixth time they had to say goodbye, but it still hurt the same. 

"I love you," he promised, voice tiny, and if the air didn't take pity on them, his confession wouldn't have reached Hendery. 

"I love you too," Hendery promised back, and now Dejun couldn't even hear his breathing anymore, "tomorrow you'll be better."

Dejun fell asleep, and when he woke up, Hendery wasn't there. 

Everything was immaculate; even the tray with pumpkin had been cleaned up before, every trace of the day before vanished from Dejun's sight. A cruel, empty view as he made way to the living room, hoping fate could grant him one last wish. 

All the pictures were gone, but the door to their second room was open.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sending you all my love from my side of the Atlantic 💛
> 
> find me on  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/toojuns)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/toojuns)


End file.
